


The Point Of No Return, Or Somewhere Like That

by WonderAss



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Crack almost taken seriously, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, One Shot, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAss/pseuds/WonderAss
Summary: On the way back to the Citadel the Fury Road gang passes through a mirage that transports them a few decades back in time...maybe.Max is sure he's just gone insane again. Considering everything that's happened in his life thus far, it's a safe assumption to make.





	The Point Of No Return, Or Somewhere Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for two incidents of sexual harassment (catcalling), hallucinations and questionings of reality.

"...Is this supposed to be Valhalla?"

The Dag wrinkles her nose like she just got a faceful of exhaust, even though the air is cleaner than any desert expanse he's seen to date.

"It's kinda bland, huh."

Max takes in a slow, hitching breath. It's not bland. It's...cold. Wet. From the desert they left behind it feels _freezing_ , even though his animal brain knows it's nothing more than a chill and some humidity. It's a relief from constantly sweating his way through the past few days, really, and he takes in a deeper breath through his nose as he tries to pin down the foreign, familar itch of the place.

"Is it...the Green Place?" One of the former Wives asks. The one always flinching and twitching like a startled lizard.

" _A_ Green Place." Furiosa corrects, then scrunches her brows down. "Maybe."

Everyone shuffles and peers around them, still hesitant to speak even after the weird pale Wife punctured the silence. Nux is holding his stomach and blinking blearily, looking like he's about to pitch up whatever he's eaten. The youngest one, always with her nervous eyes, keeps looking to Max expectantly, like _he_ has any idea where they are and is simply withholding his fountain of wasteland wisdom out of spite. He wants to communicate to her he's _just_ as lost as they are, but he can't really steel his mouth into anything other than crooked shock.

"...What happened? How did we _get_ here?" The red-haired one breathes, one hand on her chest and the other resting atop the short-haired Wife's shoulder. The smaller woman scoffs and shakes her head, though the stunned wonder doesn't leave her roaming eyes. "We had the War Party in our sights, just over the crest of the hill, then everything went blurry..."

"Come on, Capable. I'm called The Knowing, not The Know-It- _All_." The self-proclaimed Knowing Wife's head whips around at the sound of...a bird? A whistle? He hasn't the faintest what it is and, judging by her gaping mouth, neither does she. "What the..."

Blurry. Bright. Incredibly windy. These are the syllables honking in his brain. It was not long after they'd decided to hoof it back to the Citadel together. Pool their strengths and shoot for hope, the biggest mistake in the Wasteland and the best chance they got. All of the Vuvalini had been with them, though some had remained on their motorbikes and just two had entered the Rig with him. He'd offered the oldest one to go inside -- the one with skin more wrinkled than a snake's hide, the one with her bag of seeds -- and she'd considered it, but hadn't agreed.

" _Lemme feel the wind on my face for another minute, eh? Then I'll join you all in that rustbucket._ " She'd laughed, showing approximately three teeth.

All Max can remember from there to here was the sensation of being pulled. Like gravity, but more merciless, more...colorful. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. Flashing lights, sudden memories and sensations that flick past his comprehension and refuse to be pinned down. It's all a mess. Like usual.

"Ew, what's _that_. Cheedo, look." The Dag hisses, snatching the girl in question by one arm and holding firm. "Stay away. It might be poisonous."

Everyone looks to where she's pointing. It's small and glossy, with a tiny head and a long tail held up in the air like a question. It's not a dog, but it reminds him of one. Quieter, definitely. He hadn't heard the slightest hint of its approach, which is setting off his already sensitive warning signals to _astronomically_ high levels. If he scrounges his memory hard enough he might be able to remember what it's called, but he can't think beyond its unnaturally glassy eyes and the way it just keeps... _looking_ at him.

"Think we can eat it?" The Knowing asks. She gives him a nudge when he doesn't respond, feather-light but _shocking_ , and he's yanked out of his reverie so badly he nearly falls over. This causes the creature to flinch, green eyes as round as the sun, then bolt the opposite direction so fast it's a blur...then it goes vertical. Right up a tree. There are a _lot_ of those here. "Aw, you scared it away."

"I got it!" Nux cries, aching stomach immediately forgotten and gearing up to follow by hooking an arm over the lowest branch. Max promptly snatches him by the waistline of his pants and holds him in place with a warning growl. Words may frequently fail him, but some sentiments didn't need multiple syllables to get across. The _last_ thing they needed was an extra hand with a broken neck.

"Look, there's another!" Cheedo cries, pointing at a similar creature peering from around a wooden barrier, a childish smile stretching her face. The red-haired girl is starting to grin herself, commenting on the strange color and comparing it to her own fuzzy locks. "It is, it's _just_ the same. Capable, Toast, I remember Miss Giddy showed us pictures...those are called Whiskers, right?"

"No, that's just the stuff on its face. I think it's a mutated rat, anyway." Toast argues, though she's leaning forward with both hands on her knees to squint at it properly. "Just _look_ at it."

" _Extra_ poisonous." The tallest wife seethes, pulling Cheedo close beside her.

"Do you recognize this place?" Furiosa asks him, the only hint breaking through her calm the erratic twitch of her mechanical arm.

Recognize...is a nice way of putting it. That would mean he's been here before, which he hasn't, he knows already despite being here for all of five minutes. When the world fell certain pockets of civilization still clung to the old days, as best it could, but it was never anything as pristine as the carefully tended wooden fences and whispering plants filling his peripheries. His old town...they had rules. They sometimes had running water. They had cars and guzzoline and hastily-patched together morals in a land that wanted nothing more than to eat them alive or get them to eat each other, whichever came first.

This was a time only preserved in old magazine clippings.

Despite their reservations the women (and War Boy) are starting to smile in helpless wonder. The only one who isn't is Furiosa, still scanning their surroundings with a hard bent to her shoulders. He doesn't blame her in the slightest. That is, assuming she's real or _any_ of this is real and he hasn't gone truly, utterly, _completely_ mad. Max has never seen this much green, not with the world forever burning, but the tall buildings in the distance, the smoothly paved roads and in-tact stop signs and honest-to-fuck animals...it's the world From Before. They are, somehow, without a _doubt_ , in the world From Before.

...in his head.

"...Hey. _Hey_ , Fool, where are you going?"

"Bloody smeg, already _abandoning_ us-"

"Wait! Maybe he knows where we are-"

He's wandered plateaus of madness before. His attacks were finicky, but they tended to flare during extreme stress, injury or both. Maybe he was on the floor of the Rig with a bullet in his chest and getting a head-start on this mythical Valhalla place everyone crows so much about. It's more than possible everyone's stone-cold dead and they're all making the transition from one life to another together. _That_ thought cuts through the delirium and sobers him faster than a blow to the face. No, no, that couldn't be. At least _one_ of them had to get out of this mess alive. After the one called Splendid fell, with a little one just on the cusp of being born at _all_...

"Doggone damn _wreck_ of a frugging, chugging, mugging-" Max mutters, slapping the hard side of a metal pole to make sure it's real, then moving his way around it in a suspicious circle. "Make up your _mind_ , mind, which way is up and which way is down-"

"What's...he going on about?" The Knowing one hedges, uncertainly. "He never talks _this_ much."

"Checking for traps." Cheedo replies, assured. "He knows where we are. I can feel it."

A cool breeze shuffles through the trees and makes the leaves (honest-to-damn _leaves_ ) chatter like teeth. This place was nice, _that_ much was for sure. He wouldn't mind lingering, but he had to figure out if he was having a particularly well-maintained episode or if he truly _was_ another Wasteland memory. He pinches his arm, slaps his cheek a few times, then leans down to sniff the dirt and see if scent can jog his broken mind back into place. The soil is...wet. Probably good enough to bear crops. Green stalks of grass poke out through the brown. Max pushes a hand around in it wonderously.

"...Madder than a Boy fulla paint." The once-War Boy remarks, uncharacteristically skeevy.

"He's always sinking into his very own quagmire of unfiltered kamikrazy." The Dag adds, before her tone suddenly darkens. "Not as crazy as _you_ , though." Nux's indignant sputter confirms he was target of this particular jibe.

Maybe he should take some of the soil with him. Granted, he doesn't have many places to _put_ the stuff, but he hasn't forgotten about the Keeper mentioning a lack of places to grow crops. The old Vuvalini women eyeball him from where they now perch atop the Rig's smoking form -- they've been rather quiet all the while, or perhaps their voices just hadn't rose above everyone else's. Furiosa's hand on his shoulder jerks him back to not-reality all over again. They sure are touching him a lot now. He's not mad about it, but they could at least _warn_ him.

"Hey. Stay with us." She lowers her voice, presumably not to startle the others (or him, maybe, probably). "We don't know what's out here."

That's a good idea. Wait, no, it's not. He has more than enough ghosts trailing after him these days without adding her and the others to the pile. Nux would be far too much of a hindrance, spectral form notwithstanding, and the idea of young Cheedo lingering forever near makes something hot swell up in his throat. He gets to his feet, thinking of the best way to ensure the Imperator why he'd be better off striking out solo while they guarded the Rig, only for a smooth and shiny blue car to suddenly shoot past them on the smooth and shiny road. Everyone goes as silent as if they'd all been shot point blank.

"...Did you see _that?_ "

"Damn, did you _hear_ that?"

"It sounded like music...!"

Nux is practically dancing in place with the desire to chase after it (Max remembers when one of his peers called _him_ a 'raging feral', yet War Boys seemed to be frothing at the mouth at the best of times), but there's no need. In the world From Before there were so many cars they had a hard time getting rid of them all. Wherever they were is still quiet, with not many people, and it's just their hesitation delaying them now. After conferring hastily with the Vuvalini pair Furiosa's eyes light up with a sudden plan. She waves for the others' attention (giving him a _hard_ look like she'd drag him over if she had to), then starts detailing her thoughts rapid-fire.

"Listen up. I have no idea what the _hell_ is going on, but we're near civilization. There are cars _everywhere_. I would bet bullets they have enough fuel to power the Rig, probably spare parts we can cobble together. It's worth a quick look."

"But they belong to others..." Capable starts. Furiosa swiftly holds up her metal claw.

"We can trade. There's still mother's milk in the Rig. If they don't comply we'll have to take them by force. _No_..." She begins when the Wives start protesting in unision. "...unnecessary killing."

Max wants to mention civilized societies probably don't drink human milk, but he's still trying to figure out if he really _did_ see a cat. ...That's what they were called, right? He thinks about asking one of the desert warriors -- they might be old enough to remember some of these things -- but he's stopped in his tracks by the next question brought into the open air.

"Do you think we'll even be able to go back?" The Knowing one asks, as canny as a crow.

Nobody says a word. It still hasn't really clicked how they went from the burning expanse of the desert to this cloudy, chilly place full of life. The possibility of being stuck here, no matter how beautiful, is, well. Too awful _and_ too wonderful to voice. Splitting up is presented as an idea, one Max stresses he doesn't mind and Furiosa is _vehemently_ against. Staying exactly where they are is also heavily debated. The only unifying opinion is that the damaged Rig still has the fail-safe in place, so it won't be stolen any time soon. Their biggest concerns were strangers breaking in and taking their things. Maybe accidentally shooting themselves by stepping on the many hundreds of tiny guns stuffed into every nook and cranny.

The Vuvalini deign to stay with it, anyway. Just in case.

"I'll do more good here fixing up these engines." The gray-haired one says, waving at the tanker. "My old bones are as curious as any of you, but who knows how much of a walk's ahead. Rather spare my hip the damage."

"Go on. Get a move on." The other tells them with a sigh. "You're all young yet. Might as well get a good look before we get our way back to desert." The Knowing puts on another characteristically doubtful frown at this last statement, but she keeps her mouth firmly shut.

"Can you work on her in the meantime? Engine was showing some stress..." Nux presses, his own doubt clear in his too-bright eyes. One of the old clan members laughs and makes her way to the undercarriage. The other gives him a haughty sniff.

"Can _you_ keep that lump between your ears long enough to bring us back some loot, boy?"

Well. That's that. After double-checking the position of the sun (hard to see entirely through the haze) they all start to make their way away from the Rig and down the road. Nux hollers every time a car drives by and Max feels a similar urge when they're passed by one _hell_ of a truck, as red as fresh blood and with rims that gleam. They don't see any more cats, but he has no doubt they're skulking about somewhere with his bloody demise on their minds.

It's a long, twisting, winding walk. The wind ruffles the trees constantly and makes The Dag huff in irritation more than once, pulling her wispy shawls around her shoulders in an attempt to push back the cold. A leaf catches on her hair at one point, which Cheedo immediately deems a pretty sight and mimics by picking one off the ground and pushing it behind her ear. Soon everyone is wearing leaves tucked in their hair or behind one ear, in Furiosa and Nux's case. Furiosa tolerates it and Max can't really come up with a proper rebuke _not_ to do so, so he lets Cheedo stick one in the front of his collar.

It's a bruised brown and green, edges flayed apart from misuse. It reminds him of him.

Not too much time after they leave the trees do they reach a more open area...and everyone can hardly speak for _gasping_. Huge buildings in the distance. Glittering like frost on a dunetop. Even where they are now, with stone houses sitting on green hills, the surrealness of the situation is overwhelming. Max resists the urge to hit himself in the face again.

"So _shine._ " Nux breathes, swaying a little like he just came down with blood loss. Max cringes at the memory and promptly takes a few steps back. Capable throws an arm around the Boy's shoulders to hold him up, though she looks rather close to falling over herself. "Think those are bigger than the Citadel?"

"Hard to tell, they're so far away. Probably." Capable gapes. It's a wonder she hasn't caught a mouthful of leaves yet. "We could go look for ourselves..." She glances sidelong at Furiosa, tentatively cautious or seeking permission, he's not sure. Furiosa's gaze is distant. Inscrutable.

"...Just like the pictures." Furiosa whispers. Max has never seen her so curious before. He starts to stare, then hurriedly looks somewhere else when his mind barks the foreign yet very acute word ' _rude_ '.

They're in a town. Or the outskirts of a...city. One of those things. There are houses a little ways away, across the smooth road, grassy squares separating them from one another and criss-crossing distant roads with smaller buildings. He sees the occasional person across the street or in a car, clean clothes and make-up and glittering wrists. Everyone stares without fail. Max can't help but think back to his own town. The one he left behind when he lost everything and the only thing that made sense was his car and the forever distance. It's only when they start moving down the sloping hills and closer to the larger buildings does someone actually talk to them.

"Hey, girlies." A man calls from where he leans by a flat structure with bright, gaudy lights. More music pounds from within, though the words are impossible to make out. The scent of smoke, however, is somehow more sour than even the Rig's exhaust. "Aren't you cold in all that?"

The former Wives shuffle side-by-side, less-than-enthused by this attention. Nux's look of curiosity dwindles at the sight of Capable's frown. Toast's dark gaze has turned as harsh as the time Max pointed a pistol in her face. A bird chirps somewhere in the distance.

"Aw, come on, I was just being friendly..." They start, only for the blood to drain straight from their face. He can't see Furiosa's expression from where he's standing, but he can only imagine the searing intensity in her eyes. Max glowers over her shoulder for good measure. They didn't blow through a mountain pass and lose one of the former Wives to be intimidated by this place's version of aimless _scavs_.

"They are _not_ for sale." Furiosa hisses.

" _Wha_ -"

Their expression goes blank, vague, like something's not clicking. Max thinks she was pretty straightforward, but perhaps this man wasn't used to being told no (and he wouldn't be the first). He hovers a cautious, yet sincere hand over the hilt of his gun. The man's eyes flick to him, then down, something now closer to terror spreading on his face. Someone calls out inside the building and the door opens to reveal another, a friend or peer, wearing a twin expression of dismay. The situation could turn ugly, but that was par for the course. Max had taken out the crazed Bullet Farmer and his three Boys with a kukri. These two would be _nothing_.

The tension shatters when an older woman pushes between them with a colorful thing on wheels. Like an upside-down basket. Something inside it squeaks and jabbers and for a moment he's convinced he's not just dead, he's _also_ been sent back in _time_...

"Is _that_ -" Toast begins.

"-a _baby!_ Can I hold it?" Capable squeals. The woman looks at her like _she's_ the crazy one of the group and hurries along down the pathway without looking back, dress flicking at her heels. Even her red curls seem to droop with disappointment.

"...It looked _healthy_." Furiosa marvels, the man now thoroughly forgotten. Toast nods, slowly, staring down the pathway completely mesmerized. The Dag touches her stomach thoughtfully.

Stores. Clean roads. Healthy, happy babies. Max very well might've passed the point of no-return.

That thought makes him suddenly, brilliantly hysterical. How many points of no-return has he gone careening past with hardly a glance in the opposite direction? Losing Glory's mother...then Glory. Being turned into a bloodbag, then a hood ornament, _then_ a glorified cab driver. There was nothing but peace and grass and music here, yet it's one of the most terrifying things he's encountered on the tangled, bloodstained road of his life. Max starts to chuckle, laughter emerging completely unbidden like a surprise geyser, and everyone, even Furiosa, eyes him warily.

"I've never heard him laugh before, but I'm kind of glad..." Cheedo whispers into The Dag's shoulder.

"...Think he needs a muzzle again?" Nux hedges.

" _He's_ not the one that needs a muzzle." Toast growls back.

The two men have retreated back inside and a gaggle of eyes are squinting through the window. Max can't stop chuckling, but he figures he can multi-task. He gestures for the group to follow (which, to their credit, they do without _too_ much hesitation). An older man with a bushy beard walks the opposite direction down the gray pathway -- cigarette in hand and a curious glint in his eyes -- , close enough toward them to be another almost-threat, and something cracks through the madness when Toast mutters something under her breath. Max edges closer to her and fixes the stranger with a hard stare, making sure to hold it until he's passed.

A few minutes later -- he thinks, anyway, keeping track of time was never his strong suit -- Toast mutters something else. It kind of sounds like, "Thanks."

There's a method to civilization, even beyond the signs with big, honest arrows and simple directions. He leads them across the street, down the gentle hill and past all the stationary cars toward another low building with massive windows. Furiosa peers into them, her human hand hovering above her shoulders for the rifle on her back and a knowing gleam to her eye.

"Supplies..." She murmurs, more to herself, only to pause when a low growl sounds off to her left.

A dog -- a fucking hound, with big ears and a _long_ pink tongue -- is splayed out on the ground by one of the big red things by the door. Big _red_ things? ...Oh. Those had _water_. Max's hand instinctively reaches for his hip pistol, suddenly consumed by the urge to make it spurt out like he remembers from those old photos, but his canteen was still full and they probably didn't want to stick out more than necessary. The others are leaning forward and muttering over seeing another animal so soon, only to leap back into a huddle once it starts barking. It's not very big, about the same size as one of those irridated dingoes he ran into once, but that doesn't stop it from being _very_ loud.

Nux promptly barks back, imitating it to a _startlingly_ accurate degree, and its mouth snaps shut in canine shock. A weird whining comes out a second later, like an engine about to blow, and it hunches back onto the ground.

"Good _job_." Capable whispers, to the Boy's visible delight. He kisses her cheek, causing Toast to roll her eyes and The Dag to bare her teeth in a silent hiss. Everyone's attention is turned again when Furiosa makes her way inside the building.

_Do you come from a land down under_

_Where women glow and men plunder_

Music plays once they leave the cold of the outside. Cautious as they are a few of the former Wives can't seem to help but coo under their breath -- so much readily available and packaged food, even with their steady access at the Citadel, must be astonishing to them. If he hadn't already tasted hints of From Before many years back he would probably be snatching everything within sight and seeing just how far his pockets could stretch. ...Pretty far, really. Once he carried enough ammunition for three people on his person for nearly two days when his Interceptor ran out of fuel and he had no choice but to walk and scavenge. Max's heart suddenly drops to the floor. His car was still in the possession of those savages. Would it be worth taking one of these shiny new models back with him?

"Toast, I hardly know where to look _first_..." Cheedo breathes, hands on her cheeks and eyes rounder than that cat's they left behind. "Am I dreaming?"

"Yeah. What _is_ all this stuff? Dor- _ree_ -tohs..." Toast is sounding out slowly, squinting mightily at one of the large bags. "No, Capable, c'mere. I saw a place like this once. It was miles from the Citadel and covered in dirt, but it was _really_ similar...I think we can eat this. No, really."

"Hey, no. Don't touch or eat anything. This place could be radioactive." Furiosa commands, though there's doubt on her face as she scans her bizarrely clean surroundings. If Max remembered how to laugh he'd probably chuckle at this fearsome, greased-up Road Warrior, tentatively prodding at packaged goods with barely restrained fascination. The glass standing between passerbys and what seem to be rows and rows of bottles of liquid catches her eye the most. She leans in close, eyes scrolling from side-to-side slowly in an attempt to read through the glare. There's still nobody inside, though he has the nagging feeling they're not alone. Then again, he always felt like that.

"Hmm. I don't think this is radioactive. It's _far_ too clean. There are no animals or plants. People have been here." Capable offers, turning in place to take everything in at once. "Toast is saying she's seen people eat the stuff in cans because it keeps better. Nux, what do you think, did you ever see a place like this when you were out...scavenging..."

The chatter slowly dies down when Capable walks out of the narrow hall to find where the Boy disappeared to. One-by-one everyone peers after her, around the corner with the walls of glass and drinks. The defected War Boy turns and blinks at them, cheeks filled near to bursting and his arm elbow deep in one of the many colorful boxes.

"...All right, then." Toast says into the stunned silence, crossing her arms. "Let's wait an hour and see if he starts shitting himself."

"We don't _have_ an hour." Furiosa growls over her shoulder.

"Smeg." The Dag sneers.

Max sighs and pulls out his old detector. He has to flick the screen a few times to get it to turn on, but once it does the needle stays firmly still. The place wasn't just clean. It was _pristine_. Furiosa peers over his shoulder, exchanges a meaningful glance, then snaps her fingers. All at once everyone starts grabbing what they can find. Toast peers up at the ceiling where the music keeps drifting in, breaking out into one of her rare smiles and nudging The Dag in the arm.

_I said to the man, "Are you trying to tempt me_

_Because I come from the land of plenty?"_

Only Max stays where he is, twitching with wrong energy and probably hunger. Definitely hunger. Whatever The Dag is peeling open smells _delicious_. Is it soup? It's been _eons_ since he had a good, hot can of soup-

"Do you want something to eat?" Cheedo asks, breezing into his tumble of thoughts. He turns and finds her holding out a long, yellow bar of something in shiny cellophane. Max blinks, trying to figure out what the hell she's holding _and_ the infuriating itch in the back of his mind, whichever comes first. "These are really good. They're sweet, like berry cakes." She squeezes it a little for emphasis, then startles when white gunk shoots out. "Oh, oops."

"'m fine." He mutters, though he's anything but. He doesn't need Cheedo stressing about him. Behind the naivete there's an intuitive soul, however, and she gazes at him as her fingers work apart the thin wrapping.

"Do you miss it?" She gives it another tug and brightens when it pops open. "Places like these, I mean."

He misses a lot of things. Sometimes he'll wander down the crooked pathways of his memory when he has nothing else to do but stare out into the Wastes, thinking about campfires and paved roads and phone booths, but more and more often his life prior feels like a dream. He's still not entirely sure _this_ isn't a dream. He manages to finagle these thoughts into something representing a sentence, or two, and Cheedo's empathetic frown deepens.

"It's...it still feels...odd." He looks down at the floor. It looks back up at him. "...Clean."

"It really is. Not even our cell was this spotless." Cheedo agrees, devouring the little treat with gusto and licking her fingers. She reaches for a pink one this time, eyes round with curiosity. Max squints at her, feeling another frown pulling at his face even though there's no real reason for it, not when he _wants_ to see the easily-scared girl happy for once...

The Dag is frowning thoughtfully, dancing a long finger in-between the different bottles with one hand holding the door at bay. She eventually settles on a bright blue one, like the hide of a shiny beetle, and something sings in the back of his mind. Rowdy young men who would hoard these for long nights and long shifts. He ambles over and reaches over her shoulder to pluck a pale white carton instead. She immediately stiffens.

"'s better." He grunts, quickly. "...for the, mm. Child."

Her expression slowly changes. A hand drifting to her stomach, as if by instinct. Without another word she sets down her first choice and takes the one in his hands, pawing open the top and taking a tentative sip.

"...Like mother's milk." The Dag says after licking her lips. "But much colder." She looks to him. "...It's good."

Max blinks. Unsure of what to do now he mumbles some sort of noise and shuffles back to his corner. They give him his space, which he appreciates, as the gnawing in his gut has yet to abate and he's pretty sure it has little to do with the increasingly light cup in his hand.

"Oh, what's that you got there? Looks nice."

"Cheedo, come try this. Scav's more than just a whirlwind of blood and dirt." He hears behind him and...

... _ah_. Now he knows why he feels so strange. He's the only one not _stealing_. The word has all but lost meaning in the Wasteland and he has to mull over the sound of it in his head before it sinks in. Stealing was bad. Bad things meant consequences. Consequences...

"No, no no no, wait, don't-" He starts, flapping his hands up and down for good measure, though his mutters have no hope of breaking through their joyous cacophony. Furiosa offers him a can and he pointedly refuses, still trying to form a full sentence and resulting in little more than mimicking a stalling engine. The women have all gravitated to the shiny glass walls to inspect the drinks alongside the Imperator, now acutely aware of their thirst as well as hunger.

"I don't know what half of these are." Toast states, flat tone completely at odds with the expression on her face. "Bud- _way_ -ser. Huh."

"Hm, this is..." Cheedo starts, tugging at the top of an aluminum can and nearly dropping it when it releases a sharp _hiss_. After a cautious glance at her sisters she sips it, scrunching her face at first only to blink slowly. "Bleh. Ew. ...Oh. Oh, woah. This goes from cold...to warm?"

"Oh, Cheedo." Capable chuckles. "I think that's booze."

She turns around to him, mouth open around a question, only to snap it shut when Max grabs one of the cans, snaps it open and starts chugging deeply.

" _Ay_." Toast says with a grin, holding up a can in a...toast. "Bottoms up."

Nux comes back over a little desperate for a drink after the dry food he'd been wolfing down. Capable hands him something bright and orange. For a moment they're all on the same page. That's nice. Max wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to think of the million and one reasons he should refuse another can, but the short, fierce woman is holding another one out to him, and it _really_ looks good, so cold it's practically sweating, and he all but snatches it.

 _"If I can survive while dehydrated, injured **and** batshit crazy I can survive while buzzed._ " Max thinks as he guzzles down the cold, _hot_ liquor and lurks around the far corners of the Before Store. Furiosa's expression is starting to veer close to pity, definitely not the first time she's looked at him like that, but before he can pin the source of _that_ down she's walking over to where Nux has been crouched across the building. For such a hyper creature he's been remarkably distant.

"What is that?" Furiosa asks, popping open a bottle top with a _crack_ and taking a swig. She winces appreciatively and takes another, deeper draft as Nux holds up a bright yellow canister. "Oil?"

"Slick, actually. Looks _real_ chrome." He holds up another, eyes glowing with the weight of his spoils. "Lots of stuff here, like when my bands would go past buzzard territory and pick up whatever we found. We should take some back to the Rig."

Max shifts from foot-to-foot and tries his very hardest not to explode. If this truly was the world From Before that meant they couldn't scavenge like a pack of crows. There were rules here. Actual, tangible _rules_ that could see them in big trouble if they were-

"Hey! What are you all _doing?_ "

- _caught_.

With all the noise they've been making it's a wonder someone just _now_ has noticed their presence. A person has emerged out of one of the far doors. Their clothes are _immaculate_ and smooth, with strange, white strings coming out of both ears. They pull one out, still blinking at them like they brought the sun inside, too. ...Oh. So that's why.

"The...heck?" They say, looking between all of them with a growing expression of disbelief. "You...guys off to a costume party or somethin'...?"

"Uh, there's only _two_ guys." Toast notes with a cock of her eyebrow. Her sister-in-arms waves a quick hand at her to hush. They're both still working their way through the building's alcohol storage. Their pockets, what little they have, bulge suspiciously. The Dag blinks benignly, in the middle of pouring a pink carton's contents into the palm of her hand. It's far too goopy to be a drink. He really hopes she doesn't drink it.

"We just need some food and water." Capable starts, pleasantly, and Max wonders if he could ever get that sort of wheedling cadence to his voice with enough practice. "We're sorry, we weren't sure if there was anyone else here..." She casts a harsh look at Toast's snort. "... _and_ we just wanted to look around."

"Uh. Cool. You...going to pay for all that?" Their eyes roam over the mess with increasing trepedation.

"We have payment." Furiosa starts. They stare in shock at her metal hand, which she holds up in what she likely imagines is a peaceful gesture. Little did _they_ know she was just as scary without it. "Let's work out a deal. We came from the West, beyond the mountains..."

They're not saying anything else. No, they're still staring at Furiosa's arm with a weird blotchy mess starting to spread all over their skin. Wait, _now_ they're doing something. They're reaching for something beneath the counter. Furiosa's eyes hone in on the movement with severe accuracy. Without another word she reaches for the rifle slung over her shoulder. Nux peers over from where he's been checking the oil gallons, blue eyes round with wild potential. Toast hastily finishes her drink and shoves a hand into her pocket for that tiny derringer she once made a dick joke about.

"Th-the money's in the register." They stammer, flinging their hands into the air. "Don't shoot, don't shoot, please-"

"Money?" Furiosa narrows her eyes. "We don't need money."

"I'll take more of those, though." Nux pipes up, pointing at the box with the grinning green man. Capable hisses at him to be quiet. The Dag just hisses. Before the situation can get any stranger on both ends an alarm goes off, louder than even the craziest day in the wasteland. The dog outside starts screaming.

"Oh. _Oh, no._ What do we do?" Cheedo whispers to him, looking up at the ceiling and around, sensing the ticking clock of a potentially bad situation immediately. "What do we _do?_ "

"Ah...hm." He starts, hesitantly. Everyone looks to him. Even the owner of the building. Max blinks at all the faces aimed his way, then says the first thing that comes to mind. "Run."

The tenuous scene snaps. Everyone grabs their spoils, shoving them under both arms or pooling items into makeshift dress baskets, and makes their hasty way back out the open door. Nux falls over himself trying to lunge over the pile he'd accrued and sends bags and boxes sliding everywhere. The dog is up and barking at them as they flee the scene of the crime.

"Hey, no, _wait_ -" The store person cries after them. "The _fuck!_ "

It's an ungainly sight, no doubt. He holds onto his loot as best he can with his uneven gait, made all the worse by however many cans he'd worked his way through. Max's uncanny sense of direction takes them right back across the street, across the _other_ streets, through the pass and up the winding road. Nux is happily chewing on strips of what appear to be jerky and he offers him a piece when he notices him staring.

_Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?_

_You better run, you better take cover, yeah_

A dark green car has pulled over by the War Rig, a curious individual holding something out and flashing lights at it, another at their side and pointing. Max is _pretty_ sure it's a camera, though he's never seen one that tiny before. Nux puffs out his chest and starts swaggering over, but Capable grabs him by his arm and hisses something in his ear that makes him instantly droop like a scolded child. Toast shouts for their attention. They both whirl around. A young man and a young woman, wearing bizarrely colorful pants and spectacles. One of them even has blue hair.

"That's _our_ Rig." Furiosa states, neither threatening nor soft, even though they likely have already been told by the old women standing nearby. She's an impressive woman, considering what they just went through _and_ just came back from. Max would love to know where she gets her unflappable calm.

"No, no, yeah, we're just looking, that's all-" One starts in a hasty stammer. How does a person even get their hair that shade in the first place?

"Ohh. ...That makes sense." Another says, staring with their mouth slightly agape, spectacles low on their nose and their eyebrows arched high. "We weren't taking anything, just never seen a tanker that big or dir-...uh, actually, could we take a photo of your costumes, though?"

The Vuvalini are barely holding back their laughter from where they lean against the side of the Rig. These two weren't a danger, then, which is a relief, even though Max isn't sure what's so funny, even less so when the old women burst out into hoots as the two residents of the Not Green Place urge them all to stand side-by-side. Furiosa doesn't deign to be touched, neither does Toast, but they agree out of pure curiosity. Cheedo asks to see the device outright, dark eyes practically bulging with shock when she sees the result of the strangers' request -- a crisp, clear image of all of them standing against the tall trees, their confused frowns and half-smiles swathed in rainbow sepia tones.

"I _hate_ that filter." Blue Hair scoffs. "Seriously? Just leave it like it is."

"It looks better this way." Their partner insists.

Max is asked to stand alone by the Rig for another photograph. He shuffles over at their insistence, feeling completely out-of-sorts with their delighted tone, and stands awkwardly as they position themselves.

"Love the jacket, man." They say as the camera _clicks_. Max _growls_. Their smile vanishes.

"Hey, are you a model?" The other asks Toast from where she's standing off to the side with the others. The woman frowns in confusion, then opens her mouth to deliver what's no doubt a blunt response.

"They were very popular back in the day." One of the Vuvalini women interjects smoothly. "The most beautiful women would have their pictures taken and put everywhere. Signs, on the sides of buildings, television."

Toast blinks at them both, the realization taking a moment to sink in, then runs a slow, shy hand through her cropped hair.

The two get in their car and even wave goodbye as they pull off the gravel and out onto the road. Everyone fills the Rig with their stolen goods (Capable looking completely shredded between guilt and glee as they make as much room as they can for the bags, cans and bottles), then go over their plans. They had to find that mirage and get back home. The temptation to stay might be too powerful otherwise.

' _They're going to be chasing us soon. We need to start looking for a way out of here before we're overrun by reinforcements. I suggest we go back the way we came and try to find any sign of that mirage. It was shimmery and faint and nothing of the sort has been spotted here so far. Splitting up now might be the right thing to do._ ' Max starts. The group turns and gives him a collective look of confusion. ...Oh. Right.

"Um. They're going to, ah, be on our tail soon..." He mutters, then waves a hand in the air frustratedly when they just blink at him. Was he speaking another _language_ now? Surely he didn't drink _that_ much-

"...Who's 'they'?" The Dag inquires. "And what's a 'confucamus'?"

"Other Imperators!" Nux attests. Furiosa's eyes narrow to slits.

No, _no_ , that's not quite it. Max fumes at his moldy memory. His moldier ideals. It's been _years_ since he shouldered a righteous cause. What were protectors even called here? All he knows is the person in the store was talking into a (very flat) walkie-talkie of some sort and they didn't look too happy about what they did. That was all but a guarantee they'd have guards or officers or attack _things_ on their heels. He manages to get a few nouns and adjectives out, whether or not they make sense, and wants nothing more than another can of beer.

"Then we better hurry." Furiosa agrees. She was always quick to catch on. For one happy moment he almost appreciates her more than the fact he's no longer sweating his skin off. "Let's make sure there's no major damage to the bumper and get this thing moving."

"What about getting more guzzoline?" Nux offers from under the hood. "I think that food place had some extra..."

"We have plenty." She counters. "The sooner we try and find that...mirage...the better."

"I still don't see anything." Capable has climbed to the top of the rig to peer through her binoculars. "But there's _something_ in the air..."

Max cranes his head up to the sky. It's not a bird, that's for sure. A plane, maybe, though he hasn't seen a functioning one in however many years he maybe remembers. It's tiny and drifts slowly, meaning it's _very_ high up, and everyone tilts their neck in an attempt to follow it through the trees.

"... _Wow_. Think that's a satellite, then? Do they have satellites here?" Toast asks him, shading her eyes with one hand. Max grunts.

"A metal cloud." The Dag muses. "What do you think, smeg?" Max grunts.

"What about tee-vee?" Cheedo chirps. Max grunts again, more plaintively this time. He _really_ wishes they would stop asking so many questions.

They're starting to draw a crowd. Wherever these people were before and whatever they were _doing_ before has now taken a backseat to their group, with what appears to be a family blatantly staring at them from across the street and a car driving _very_ slowly down the far road. Something flashes from the window. More pictures.

"I hope they're getting my good side." The darker-haired Vuvalini says with a chuckle. Toast fiddles with her hair, then seems to come to conclusion and strikes a sudden pose, chin held high and shoulders drawn back. A round of eager _clicks_ follows almost immediately. At this rate they'll be here until night falls.

"...I'm driving." Max states. Furiosa peers at him, not _quite_ insulted but not quite on-board with the idea, either. "This place, it's...mm. Not _familiar_ , but not..." He raises his eyebrows when the words decide to take a vacation halfway up his chest. Her eyes widen in recognition. They switch spots, he takes the wheel and inwardly hopes he didn't just make the biggest mistake on this detour. The Vuvalini pair are sitting atop, rifles sitting idly beside them and only further rubbing in what a lovely, _strange_ day it is.

The War Rig is _just_ able to fit in these roads, though they wind and twist _way_ too much for comfort. He has to hit the gas far more often than he'd like and once he slams on the brakes so abruptly Furiosa nearly gets a face full of dashboard. If they hadn't agreed to find redemption together he probably would've taken a metal fist to the face for that. Well, it was either that _or_ go careening over the edge of a very steep and grassy hill, so he tries to school his face into one of apology and banks on Furiosa being a fast learner.

"How much did you drink?" Furiosa asks, sourly. Max shakes his head, then promptly stops when his vision swims like a desert mirage.

"Jus' two." He mutters, then holds up a hand to make sure he got the message across.

" _Four?_ " She snaps. Max blinks, looks at his fingers, then holds them up again.

"No, no, _two-_ "

"If you were a War Boy you'd be flogged, blood bag." Nux interjects, cheerfully, arms folded on the back of his seat. "Not supposed to drive vehicles while bloodied up. One time my mate tried that while scouting for Buzzards, tipped head over feet when he hit a-"

"Bloodied up?" Cheedo interrupts, eyes round.

"Oh, smashed, mate."

"Smashed?" Now she looks at Max.

"Y'know. Mm." Their age gap and extreme differences in lifestyle are making themselves apparent with alarming swiftness. "Tipsy?"

"Now you're just making up words." The Dag sighs.

A car works its way past them. A rather stunning shade, so much so he has to wrack his brain to remember the name of such a ridiculous color. This one is also playing music. Something with very fast talking and a beat he can feel reverberating in his chest.

"Radio." Max tells Cheedo and Toast when they look to him expectantly. "Used to...be everywhere back in the day."

"...I need to get one of those." Furiosa notes, the second wistful expression he's seen on her face since they reunited with her lost clan. Max grunts his agreement. "Would make scouting feel less like an early bullet between my eyes."

"Almost makes you want to stay." Cheedo whispers. At that everyone goes quiet.

Max glances over and instantly wishes he kept his eyes on the road. The former Wives are hanging their heads solemnly, not looking away from the sights passing them by but no longer jumping with eagerness, either. He hadn't gotten to know the woman very well (his stomach churns sickly with guilt that she'd slipped on her own blood, from the wound he _gave_ her, however much by accident). Her cool under pressure and elegant speech had been captivating even through his constant fight-or-flight mode. The contrast between a soft upbringing and resoluteness even more so. Maybe...

"Yeah. Angharad would've loved it here." The Dag murmurs, one hand moving to her stomach. "She always hated dust."

"And the heat." Toast agrees. Cheedo rubs her eyes with one hand. Max can't blame the tightness in his eyes on dirt for once. There's no glaring in his direction when he glances behind him. No accusation in their stare. Either they're too distracted by their surroundings or they've forgiven him somewhere along this bloody, random road. He doesn't cling to hope. He keeps his eyes firmly ahead, then slows the Rig to a tentative halt when the light turns red. Studying the cars around him has given him a vague idea as to what constitutes 'road rules' here. No skipping these.

The women are all standing up and leaning out of the sun roof, taking in the view together. Capable has her binoculars out, no doubt looking for the mirage. Only Nux is still sitting. Probably because he can't fit otherwise.

" _Hey!_ " A voice calls somewhere down to his right. Max peers over at three young men standing nearby, where the dark road separates into a pale gray. "Where you taking all those pretty ladies, dude?"

"I can take one of them off your hands, if you like!" This is followed by a loud whistle, somehow obscene, and his rare temper flares. "Hey, blondie-"

" _Tch._ " Furiosa is still beside him, chin in one hand and outwardly calm, but that familiar anger is in her eyes again. Max doesn't answer, ignoring them is probably the best option, but everyone behind him is shifting restlessly. Frustratedly. Oh, he _wishes_ they weren't hollered at everywhere they went, but it seems the only thing his world and this old world had in common was the hubris of men. Despite all these women have been through, this minor indignity cuts with the force of a bullet.

"Even the War Boys never yelled at us like that." Cheedo whispers, thin hands balled into fists.

"That's only 'cause they were afraid of Joe." Toast corrects, sullenly, no longer fiddling with her hair. "Not like _that_ was any better."

"Why are men always _like_ this?" Capable growls, angry and helpless. Nux looks up at her, then all of them, expression sinking at the pain on their faces. "Nothing's _changed_."

Max looks back when they don't say anything else. Toast is deep in thought...then she ducks back down. In a heartbeat she stands right back up, a soup can in each hand, leans out the sun roof and _flings_ one. He isn't at all surprised when her aim is true and lands square in the offending man's face -- she's the only one of the former Wives that knew how to reload a gun, after all -- and makes a very impressive fountain of red spurt from his nose into the air like a signal flare.

" _Toast!_ " Capable cries, sounding both horrified and impressed, hands over her mouth.

"Nice one, girl." The Vuvalini call out, having apparently watched the whole thing.

"Angharad would've been proud of _that_." The Dag adds, and her spiteful glee is the last blow on the miserable pall. Toast promptly hands her the other can and the willowy Wife chucks it. This time the man's acquaintance is the recipient. " _Schlanger!_ " She crows, imitating the Vuvalini howl out the window with surprising accuracy. He catches Furiosa grin out of the corner of his eye. Cheedo fidgets when handed one, clearly wanting to be involved in this sudden bonding ritual but also being the least inclined to violence. The second man has gained his bearings, holding his head with one hand and holding out the other with one middle finger up.

"Fuck you, _bitch!_ "

That's all the deliberation she needs. She winds her arm back, brow pinched with a furious concentration, and chucks it with all her might. The only one who hasn't been hit jumps out of the way, swiftly enough...only to accidentally bull into his friend, sending them both crashing to the ground. A glance in the passenger seat again and Furiosa is practically _swelling_ with pride. Her mechanical arm could probably turn one of those cans into an unstoppable force, he thinks-

Max blinks when Toast hands him one. It's a waste of good food, but some bizarre, inexplicable part of him wants to feel included. They've been showing him inexplicable kindness all throughout this bizarre day (even The Dag's insults sound warmer than usual) and...well. He isn't _so_ feral he's forgotten what the pounding in his chest still beats for. Their first meeting hadn't exactly been civil, either (technically their second, come to think of it) and this could be a great way to apologize for all that. So he turns toward the open side window, takes aim-

-and gets a can to the face.

" _Witness!_ " Nux cries. Capable smacks him.

The light takes pity on him and turns green. Furiosa hands him an oil rag to mop up his nose as they leave the scene, one last responding can clanking uselessly off the Rig's battered hull (and earning a very colorful insult by _Capable_ , of all people). Head pounding with alcohol and all the blood trying to leave his body through both nostrils he sees a very strange sight out Furiosa's side-window -- Glory The Child in the driver's seat of a rather striking black and yellow car. She's holding the wheel and squealing with delight, but her short legs couldn't _possibly_ reach the pedals. Max gently reminds himself he's batshit insane and an eight year-old girl isn't actually revving across the road to the dulcet tones of a middle-aged woman.

_Every day is a winding road, I get a little bit closer_

_Everyday is a faded sign_

"How's that?" Capable asks him from above. It takes him a second to realize she's referring to her insult. "Confucious?"

"Confucamus." Max corrects, and the red-haired woman grins. 

"Eyes on the road, Fool." Furiosa reminds him, though her eyes are still glinting with humor. "Surely you haven't forgotten _that_ much."

 _Absolutely not_. If there was anything he was better at than surviving, it was driving. Max scowls and debates the merit of moving his rag away from his face and rebuking her when something very, _very_ yellow pulls into view. He glances to the side and is greeted by a very long, odd truck. Car. With many windows. There's a word for this, but _hell_ if he knows, and hell if he knows _again_ how to address the dozens of curious little faces staring at him.

"They're _adorable._ " Capable whispers, holding her face with stars in her eyes.

"Yo, are you hurt?" One calls out, their palms pressed against the window. He _is_ , but it was certainly nothing he hasn't dealt with before. It was a relief, really, what with his leg aching from the long day and feeling like it's about to pop right out of his brace-

"Oh, I think he's got a bloody nose-" Another starts up.

"Hey! Hey, you're supposed to pinch your nose-" One girl calls out through the half-open window, like a tiny Toast but with wild curls instead of a crop, "-like that, pinch it like that and hold your head back!" The other children giggle, one after another, then pinch their noses and tilt their head up.

"...I think they're showing you how." Furiosa says, face wide with surprise and amusement.

Max blinks up at them all. He doesn't want to hurt these kids' feelings by saying he _kind of_ needs to keep his eyes on the road so they don't crash, so he takes his hand off the steering wheel long enough to give them a quick thumbs-up.

Stuffing more of the rag into his nose he glances out the side-window before attempting to sidle into the right side of the road, where it starts to split up ahead and dip lower into another series of streets...and feels his skin crawl when a mechanical wailing erupts somewhere in the back.

"Uh-oh." Cheedo whispers right behind him. It's somehow even more startling than the sirens. "What do those flashing lights mean?

"It means throwing cans is out of the question." Toast states. Max grunts his agreement. She really _was_ The Knowing.

" _Fang it_." Furiosa growls. Max waits for the cars to fully edge to the side of the road, then slams his foot on the gas...gently. The cars From Before have wasted no time getting out of the War Rig's way, but he didn't want to go so fast he couldn't stop in time. He thinks he sees something in the distance, between the looping gray roads above him and the persistent foliage. Something that shimmers.

"Do you, uh-" He starts, not wanting to get _this_ , of all things, wrong.

" _There_!" Capable cries, shooting a thin arm out the window at something in the distance. "I see it! There!"

A familiar ripple flickers in the sky. It's faint, not as massive, but it shimmers just the same. If he squints he thinks he can see the bright orange expanse through it. There's no other way to explain the change in color from where this supernatural gate rests between a cluster of trees (aside from his aforementioned madness, which was convenient only rarely-). The only problem...is there is also cluster of _people_. Standing around and posing much like Toast did when she was the subject of all those sudden photos. There were enforcers at their back and stopping was out of the question. What should he _do?_

Furiosa reaches up and promptly tugs on the Rig's horn. The crowd turns en masse, then promptly splits in half and heads out of the way as quickly as possible. Its booming voice breaks through the feeble noise surrounding them, a howl through the night, and car lights start blinking in visual attempts to communicate. They're getting closer. He can _definitely_ see the Wasteland now. No Vuvalini, not yet, but they were no doubt nearby. If it took them to the same spot they left, that is...

"If you wanted to stay I wouldn't stop you." Furiosa says, so unexpectedly it takes Max all his willpower not to look away from the road and send them crashing into something. "You have a chance. Once we go back-"

The girls look to each other, then out the window. It's not a consideration, Max can see that already. It's a tearful goodbye without words. With the exception of Cheedo, of course. Her eyes are glinting mightily and she reaches a hand out of the window, as if to catch the wind and hold it in her pocket. She doesn't, though. She makes a fist and holds it to her heart. Just like the Vuvalini did when they found out about Furiosa's mother.

"Witness." Nux sighs.

Max can't think of his wife and child. Of Glory and her ill-fated mother on that cursed road. That old life in that old place, like cobwebs in a corner, hints of time long past as tangible as they were fragile. A true madness, just over his shoulder. No, he focuses on the mirage beckoning them, something the crowd of people are now pointing at and exclaiming in words he can't hear over the engine's roar. They're moving toward it, faster and faster and faster and faster _and-_

-a bright flash of light. Wind. Noise. Max holds onto the steering wheel and hunches forward, the bloody rag _somewhere_ and his only focus not being swept up in the all-encompassing everything and _nothingness_ swarming the Rig like a thundercloud. He'd almost want the thundercloud. At least he didn't feel like his insides were being pulled apart-

"Dag, _look_ -" He thinks he hears Cheedo cry, even though everything is black and he doesn't want to open his eyes for fear of losing what little sanity he has left. "Water for miles around-"

-they hit the ground, skid half a klick, and everything shifts dizzily into place.

...They're still in-tact. Everything's in place. His nose is _still_ gushing all over his front. Con _fucamus_. Max pinches his nose hastily and looks out at the familiar stretch of orange and white. His skin prickles from the sudden change in temperature. It's like no time passed at all. He doesn't have time to dwell on what they left behind, for better and for...better, really. The Rig doesn't seem any worse for the wear -- as indestructible as ever -- and he can't resist giving it a fond pat with his free hand. Furiosa casts him a knowing look, and does the same.

To think...they almost killed each other. Instead they were here, as close-knit as stitches on a wound, and just about as life-saving. He wants to say something. _Anything_. Just in case she didn't know how much he appreciated her.

Nux retching somewhere outside the Rig jerks him back to reality (maybe) and Max remembers to check everyone in the back.

Their stolen goods are all over the place, but otherwise no worse for the wear. Toast is conferring with The Dag over something in her pocket. Capable is gone, presumably comforting her puking War Boy. Cheedo's hair is a mess as she starts distributing some of the treats, encouraging everyone to try her new favorite. Max wonders if they have any more of that beer as he makes his way across the desert, one eye on the compass and a strange itch on his chest -- when he goes to scratch it he feels the leaf Cheedo gave him earlier. Still in his shirt, _somehow_ , and he pulls it out and stares at it wonderingly. It's not long before they hear the Vuvalini women calling in the distance. Furiosa calls back.

"Where have you lot _been_?" The one with cloudy white hair asks, as indignant as she is almost tearfully relieved. Toast offers her a cheerful wave. Valkyrie and Furiosa are embracing tightly. The same fierceness they showed when reuniting after nine thousand days.

"Oh, I thought I lost you _again_." The wild woman breathes, holding Furiosa at arm's length in a mirror image of their first meeting. "What in the world _happened?_ Where did you go?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Furiosa says with a shake of her head, grinning wider than he's ever seen, and he hopes they don't have to go back in time for him to see it again. "It was a wild ride."

Max stares at the more shifting sands and bleached sky, regret starting to beat in his chest. They left a _lot_ of good things behind. Readily available food. Rules and regulations. Safety. Whether or not any of it was truly real doesn't seem to matter to his brain. Yet, even then, he turns back to the girls and feels himself overcome with a warmer, better emotion. They were still _here_. Here in whatever cobbled-together, spontaneous, messy family unit they've made in the span of a few days in a burning world. Something worth fighting for. Something finally worth _fighting_ for. Max looks at the leaf in his hand. Wrinkled. Spotted with blood. Still here.

A home was a home, no matter how many holes it was filled with, and as long as they were together they could do the impossible.

They could hope again.

"Furiosa. Toast, ah...Capable." He starts, addressing them all in turn as best as he can with his hand still clamped over his face. "Cheedo. Uh..." He frowns at The Dag. She probably wouldn't want to know his temporary-name for her, but he never actually caught hers. "And, um..."

"The Dag." She informs him with a small smile...only to squint suspiciously when Max sputters.

"Mm. Right. Well, I wanted to say...uh..." He pulls the rag from his face and wonders if his face smudged with blood would get the meaning across less. ...Nah. "...'m glad you're all here. Still...here. Thought being alone was the best option, but...mm." He sighs when words, like usual, fail him. "...proved me wrong."

Toast looks away, a tiny smile curving her mouth. The Dag nudges her and whispers something, which has them both chuckling, though, somehow, it doesn't feel mocking. Cheedo's face crumples up. He's about to ask what he said -- could've been anything, really -- when she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. Max blinks, muscles twitching as they distantly remember the old gesture of affection, and he puts his least bloodied hand around her shoulders in careful response. From where he can see beyond the loose black hair Furiosa's eyes are soft. Her smile even more so.

"What's your name?" The woman asks. Max sputters _again_ , then gently pulls away from Cheedo and heads back into the Rig to find another rag. Right. That. He'd get to that later. The Vuvalini are still crowding her when he comes back out, a thousand questions in the air and hardly a space between them.

"You just went past the slope and... _disappeared_. However a giant thing like that could vanish without a trace!" The Valkyrie is still going, uncaring even as her hair blows around her face. "I could hardly believe my own two eyes and I've seen some _very_ crazy things."

"You can thank me for that." The Keeper adds, then puts two fingers to her lips and moves her hand back and forth.

"It's because we...went to another...place." Furiosa finally attempts, nobly, shaking her proud head slowly. "To the time From Before. There were huge buildings, so many _trees."_

The Vuvalini all blink and look to each other. Except for Keeper. She puts her hands on her hips and peers at them shrewdly.

"Sounds like you tried some of my _herbs_."

"Oh. I got you a gift..." The Dag starts, unraveling a small bundle of cloth she's been using as a makeshift bag. The dirt, still damp and probably smelling like rain, is nestled firmly inside. The Keeper _oohs_ appreciatively, poking a gnarled finger around in it and rubbing it against her thumb. She cups it gingerly and goes to put in the back...only to pop her head back out of the compartment a second later.

" _What in the blazes is all this?_ "

**Author's Note:**

> So, I came up with this on the bus after visiting the dentist for the _fourth_ goddamn time in a month (that's what I get for putting off my teeth cleaning visits for _years_ , ha ha-) and couldn't get it out of my head. Mad Max: Fury Road was such a good movie partially due to how likable and interesting the characters were. Of course I have to imagine how they'd react if they hit a ripple in the timestream. 
> 
> I don't do nearly enough one-shots, so please enjoy a little sprinkle of crack before returning to your regularly scheduled whatever it is you do!
> 
>  
> 
> also, for anyone wondering, 'dag' is Australian slang used to affectionately refer to an odd person, though it used to mean the little clumpy bits of poo stuck to a sheep's butt


End file.
